A Different Prison Inspection
by AUaddict
Summary: Set before PoA. Cornelius Fudge was unable to perform the inspection of Azkaban due to an illness and it fell to Amelia Bones to do it instead. The inmates of Azkaban, including one dog animagus, reacted to her presence differently than they'd react to Fudge's. The DMLE director was also more curious than the Minister of Magic - and her curiosity changed the whole story.
1. Chapter 1

Amelia Bones was in excellent mood. There were no early morning floo calls about murders, broken Statute of Secrecy or other problems. It was also early July, which meant summer holiday, and also constant company of Amelia's niece. The DMLE director missed Susan when the girl was at Hogwarts. Visits home during Christmas and Easter breaks just weren't enough.

Amelia peeked inside Susan's room when she passed it. The teen was still asleep, curled into a ball. Deciding to let her niece sleep in, Amelia continued downstairs to the dining room. When she got there, she saw that Muffy, her house elf, had breakfast ready. The DMLE director seated herself at the table and turned to the little elf:

"Thank you Muffy. You can go now. I'll call you if I need anything."

The elf bobbed a curtsey and disappeared with a pop. Amelia was halfway through her breakfast when Muffy reappeared.

"Mistress has a floo call from the Auror with lion mane. Auror says he needs to talk to the Mistress right now."

Amelia walked to the entrance hall, a part of her house which contained the only fireplace connected to the floo network. When she neared the fireplace and greeted Rufus Scrimgeour, she saw that the Head Auror wore a very sour expression on his face.

"What seems to be the problem, Rufus?"

"The Minister came down with a sudden and serious bout of vanishing sickness. He is at Saint Mungo's and the people up on the first floor just can't do the reasonable thing and postpone today's inspection of Azkaban. Apparently, both the Minister and his team of bootlickers want you to do it instead."

Amelia growled in irritation. A day with dementors and dregs of society. Oh, joy. She turned back to Scrimgeour and answered:

"Alright, I'll do it. Tell them I'll be in my office in fifteen minutes."

The Head Auror nodded and disappeared from the flames. Amelia didn't return to her breakfast. Instead, she headed back to her room and changed her black pumps for a pair of heavy dragonhide boots from her Auror days, and then put on a warm cloak which she usually wore during late autumn and winter. Muffy then appeared with a bar of chocolate, which Amelia took and then flooed to the Ministry, using the private connection directly to her office.

When she arrived and stepped out into the antechamber which also housed her secretary's desk, Pius Thicknesse and four Aurors, who were there to serve originally as the Minister's and now her bodyguards, were already waiting for her. Dawlish, Savage, Proudfoot and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Two biggest bootlickers in the whole Auror Office and two biggest Aurors. Amelia had no problem to trust Proudfoot and Shacklebolt with her safety, but Dawlish and Savage wouldn't be her first choice for her personal bodyguards. Also, she believed that two Aurors would be sufficient for the prison inspection.

"Amelia, I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but it cannot be helped," said Thicknesse, interrupting the DMLE director's musings.

"I understand, Pius. Let me just sort out a few things and I'll be on my way."

Amelia then sent her Patronus – a robin – to her Head Auror, informing him that he was in charge of the DMLE during her absence and ordered Dawlish and Savage to return to their normal duties.

The group exited the office and continued to the elevators. On the way they were met by Scrimgeour's Patronus, a silver lion, which only growled out four words:

"Message heard and understood."

As they neared the golden grilles of the elevator shafts, Amelia noticed Thicknesse giving her strange looks.

"Is there something on my face, Pius?" she asked.

"What? Oh, no. I was just thinking about your Patronus. Its form was quite unexpected."

"Was it really? After all, digging in dirt and hunting worms _is_ my job description," remarked Amelia and mentally added: _And I often sing, too – in the shower._

That was the end of all conversation, as at that moment an elevator rattled down from the first floor. The two Aurors and their boss got in, leaving Pius Thicknesse standing in the corridor. They went down to the atrium, the only part of the Ministry without anti-portkey and anti-apparition wards, and from there they portkeyed to the island, or more accurately a big lump of rock in the North Sea, where Azkaban prison stood.

The air was freezing, heavy grey clouds hung in the sky and not even a bit of moss grew on the island as a result of the dementors' long-time presence. Kingsley Shacklebolt immediately produced his Patronus and Amelia once again called her silver robin, which then hovered above Shacklebolt's lynx, watching out for any stray dementors. The group walked through the prison's main gate, where they were met by the head human guard and the inspection began.

The guard led them first to the low-security wing, which was mostly guarded by humans and dementors stood only at the entrance and were let inside only two times a day to keep the inmates sufficiently scared. When they were finished with that wing, Amelia was appalled. The human guards couldn't be bothered to check if the toilet buckets weren't leaking, the bars were getting rusty, and in some cases they even looked as if they would fall apart soon.

The DMLE director got a distinct impression that the dementors were the only beings in this part of Azkaban who took their duties seriously and she was quite irritated about it. The low-security cells housed not only people like Mundungus Fletcher, pickpockets and thieves, just as it should be, but also rapists, who in Amelia's opinion belonged in the high-security wing right next to murderers, but thanks to the change in laws in the early seventies (which almost caused Barty Crouch and several others to have a fit of apoplexy) got a less severe punishment.

The DMLE director was disgusted when one of them hiked up his robes, bared his member and yelled at her that he hadn't seen a woman for three years and wanted a good blowjob, but she wasn't really surprised or shaken. She, and almost every other female Auror or Law Enforcement Patrol officer, encountered similar behaviour several times during their active service.

When they neared the high security wing, the prison guard turned to her:

"Ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"Quite a lot of the inmates here just lay in a corner and stare, but some others are a little too alert, such as Bellatrix, Mulciber and Sirius Black. It would be better if you kept to the middle of the corridor. Bellatrix tends to grab at people's hands and robes and Mulciber often tosses out half-chewed food or other more disgusting things."

"And Black?"

"He does nothing like that. He just remains sane. Too sane, if you consider where he's spent last twelve years."

"Are there any other precautions we should take?" asked Amelia.

"No, ma'am," answered the guard and unlocked the door to the high-security wing. Amelia's senses were immediately assaulted by a stench of unwashed bodies, blood, urine, faeces and Merlin knew what else. She stopped walking for a while, just long enough to become inured to the horrible smell. She didn't want to use a bubblehead charm – while it would spare her from smelling the stench, it would also reduce her ability to hear and communicate with the rest of the group. The two Aurors and the guard mimicked her actions.

When they were all ready to continue, Amelia motioned for the guard to lead the way. The first thing she noticed were the bars. There was more than enough space between the iron rods for a prisoner to stick an arm through and grab somebody's robe, or, if that somebody wasn't careful, their wand. It was a recipe for disaster.

The prisoners in the nearest cells were just laying down on the floor or on a pile of hay, staring at the ceiling or mumbling nonsense. However, further away from the entrance it was a whole different story.

The group neared the cells which housed some of the most sadistic and maniacal Death Eaters, first of which were the Lestrange brothers. One of them let out a hate-filled hiss, the other just glared, gripped the bars of his cell and gnashed his teeth.

Another notable reaction came from Antonin Dolohov. When he spotted Amelia, he spat:

"He will return one day, and when He does, you'll be among the first to go, Moody's little girl."

Nobody in the group could see any visible reaction, but it didn't mean that Amelia remained unmoved. Dolohov's words sent a chill down her spine, but it wasn't the death threat which rattled her. She was more disturbed by the man's utter and complete confidence that his lord would return. If that happened, it would be a disaster.

There could be heard slow shuffling from the several cells they passed as the occupants withdrew to the back corners. Then, the shuffling in one of the cells became more frantic and a bony hand was thrust through the bars, followed by a screech:

"Cornelius, it wasn't very nice of you to disappear for so long. Come here, I want to play!"

This was followed by a short fit of giggles. It was more than clear that this cell was occupied by Bellatrix Lestrange. Amelia couldn't help staring at her. Before her imprisonment, Bellatrix had been an arrogant aristocratic beauty, but now she was an insane wreck. When the female Death Eater finally noticed exactly who was standing in front of her, she squealed in glee.

"Little Amy Bones! Your mummy and daddy were even more fun to play with than Edgar and his brats."

Although she felt a surge of anger, Amelia didn't give a verbal answer to Bellatrix's taunt. She caught the insane woman's eye and glared at her, putting as much disgust and contempt as she could muster into her expression. She didn't know precisely how long she'd stood in front of Bellatrix's cell, locked in a glaring contest with her, but it was long enough for Proudfoot and the prison guard to start nervously squirming.

Finally, Bellatrix averted her gaze and stared at the dirty floor for a moment. Then she sharply lifted her head, spat in Amelia's direction and retreated to a distant corner of her cell.

"Well, that was certainly… different. Neither Bagnold nor Fudge could go through this part of Hotel Azkaban without soiling themselves in fear. And to out-glare my lovely cousin? Neither of them had the balls to do that," said a raspy male voice from the opposite cell. Then there could be heard some sniffing and the voice continued:

"Hmm, I love the perfume, Amelia. Is it jasmine?"

Amelia and all four Aurors turned in that direction with their wands drawn the moment they heard the first sentence. There, on the floor, leaning on the bars sat a dirty, emaciated and unkempt man, whose left hand was wrapped around one of the vertical iron rods and the right one had a tight grip on a squealing rat's tail.

"Shut up, Black," growled the guard, but the prisoner didn't obey.

"Oh, come on, be a dear and allow a man a bit of a talk with someone else than Barmy Bella and Mawkish Mulciber," rasped Black.

The guard lifted his wand to cast a silencing charm on the prisoner, or possibly stun him, but he was interrupted by Amelia:

"Wait a moment. He can get what he wants and we'll find out why he still hasn't gone around the bend."

The guard did as he was told, but his expression clearly showed his belief that the DMLE director was a few ingredients short of a potion.

Amelia turned her attention to Black, trusting that Kingsley Shacklebolt and Perseus Proudfoot would watch out and intervene if Bellatrix, Mulciber or any other prisoner tried something.

"So, Black, how is it possible that others in this wing go insane after a few months, but you are still relatively normal after twelve years?"

When he heard the question, Black dropped the rat, which quickly scurried away, gripped the bars with both hands and pulled himself up to his knees and then to his feet. He fixed his gaze on Amelia's face and said quietly:

"I suppose I could tell you, but will you listen? Are you going to listen the way you did when you were a seventh year prefect, Snivellus and me were firsties, Dumbledore ate up my made-up story and you were the only one willing to hear what Snivellus had to say?"

"Do you think I should? If I remember correctly, back then you were an annoying little pest who couldn't and wouldn't see that he was going too far, from what I've heard, you haven't changed even when you grew up and the line between a schoolyard bully and a criminal is thin."

There was a flicker of fear in the prisoner's eyes. He gripped the bars even more tightly and blurted out:

"Amelia, please, you have to listen. I didn't betray Lily and James. I'd die before I told Voldemort where to find them. And for that matter, I was unable to tell."

"What about all of the muggles and Peter Pettigrew?"

"Little Pete is probably very much alive if some hungry alley cat hadn't eaten him for lunch. And he now has a missing finger to go with the torn ear, the bloody rat."

"So he _is_ crazy after all," said Proudfoot to Shacklebolt quietly.

Amelia ignored the remark, her attention still on Black. Apparently, he heard Proudfoot, too, and sent him a baleful glare.

"I am as sane as I can be, considering where I've spent last twelve years and I tell you that Peter is a rat, just as Minnie is sometimes a cat."

The DMLE director instantly understood what Black tried to tell her and said so. It earned her another look from the guard, but she ignored that, too, and continued asking questions.

"We have established that according to you Peter Pettigrew lives and you didn't betray the Potters. What about all of the dead muggles?"

"That was Peter's work. He fired an exploding curse while he happened to stand exactly above a big gas pipe which ran under the street."

Amelia thought about everything she'd just been told and for a while she didn't speak. The man in front of her was starting to get nervous and in the end exclaimed:

"Trust me! I'll even swallow veritaserum or take an Unbreakable Vow."

The DMLE director conceded that the whole Pettigrew business could have happened like Black said it did, but there was one last thing which didn't make sense to her.

"If I understand you correctly, Black, you claim that the crimes you were accused of had actually been committed by Peter Pettigrew, and that the man is still lurking somewhere in the outside world?"

"Yes. He's hiding from both the Dark and the Light side."

"If it's so, tell me then why you didn't mention any of this during your trial," ordered Amelia.

"I would have mentioned it if I actually got a trial, but Crouch and company hadn't given me one. They hadn't even questioned me. Old Barty is actually the one who got more than a bit crazy near the end of the war," growled Black angrily. "He just tossed me in here and that was the end of it."

It looked as if the last rant cost Black every remaining ounce of strength. He let go of the bars and sat down on the floor. Then he looked up with a sad expression on his face and whispered:

"Please believe me."

Black's claims and accusation were serious enough to warrant a good look through the old trial transcripts and a veritaserum questioning. However, Amelia would have to be careful. At the moment, Sirius Black was one of the most hated people in the British magical community and anyone trying to reopen his case had a good chance to get labelled as crazy or dark. And as for Barty Crouch, her former boss was a dangerous man for whom the end often justified the means. If he'd for some reason really denied Black a trial, wanted it to remain a secret and now found out that Amelia was sticking her nose in the matter, things could turn ugly. With all of this running through her head, the DMLE director turned to the dejected prisoner and said:

"I'll look into the matter and see what I can do, but don't expect a questioning tomorrow, trial the day after and freedom the following day."

Black nodded and the group started walking back towards the entrance to the wing. Before they got too far, the guard warned them:

"Mulciber's been too quiet today. By this stage of the inspection last year he'd already spat at the Minister."

In the end they were all grateful for the man's warning. Mulciber was waiting for them and they had just enough time to jump aside when he slopped the contents of his toilet bucket at them. The guard lost his patience this time, stunned the Death Eater and complained about creeps and stinking heaps of dragon dung the whole time which it took to get from the high security wing to the prison's main gate, where Amelia got the man to swear a magical oath to keep silent about everything that happened with Black before she and the four Aurors returned to the Ministry.

When the trio arrived back at the Ministry, they made a beeline for the Ministry Munchies, where they each got a cup of hot chocolate. Amelia still had the chocolate bar which Muffy handed her before she left for work, but they all felt that the hot and liquid variety would be more helpful.

While standing in the line at the stall, Amelia noticed her secretary, a young woman named Ruby Cadwallader, near the beginning of the line. When she caught the young witch's gaze, she motioned for her to wait near the fountain. After everyone got their hot chocolate, they joined the young witch and set out for the lifts. Amelia put up a privacy bubble and quizzed Miss Cadwallader about any office drama which could have been going on. Her secretary answered:

"Things went more than a bit crazy while you were away, ma'am. First, Williamson thought it was a good idea to leave his folder with caricatures of nearly every high Ministry official lying about and some brownnosing Auror trainee grabbed it and brought it to Head Auror Scrimgeour and, well…"

"Rufus got angry, because he hates it when somebody makes fun of him and he was in one of those pictures. Am I right?"

The secretary nodded and resumed her report:

"Then, Tonks spilled her pumpkin juice all over Umbridge in the lift on her way up to our floor, and of course Madame Undersecretary made a huge scene. By then, Auror Scrimgeour was in a foul mood and told Tonks that next time when she spills something, she should make sure that it was hot and that it ended up on Umbridge's head."

"Did he say it where Umbridge could hear it?" asked Amelia with some exasperation in her voice.

"Unfortunately, yes."

The DMLE director let out a sigh. Rufus Scrimgeour was an intelligent, capable man, but he also had little patience with people whom he considered annoying or foolish. In fact, Amelia believed that this last trait was the main reason why _he_ hadn't been named the DMLE director back in 1990.

Meanwhile, her secretary continued:

"Almost immediately after that some hit-witches came around with a letter to Walden Macnair's boss, and started collecting signatures from every female Auror, Law Enforcement Patrol Officer, Auror trainee and secretary. I admit I signed the letter, too."

"Was this about slaps on the bottom, innuendos and ogling?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did they send the letter already?"

"No, ma'am, they went to the other departments to collect more signatures and they also intended to come back here and get yours, too."

"And they will get it. Now, Ruby, what about the Ministry rumour mill? Is there something I should know about?"

The Ministry rumour mill was even faster than the one at Hogwarts and sometimes produced just as outrageous stories. For Amelia, the most memorable story was one which started shortly after she'd taken up her current position. Somebody from her department remarked in a conversation that she "looked a bit under the weather in the morning", which got twisted into "she's got morning sickness" and at the end of the day half of the Ministry had been whispering that their new DMLE director had been having a torrid affair with her Head Auror and forgot to take the contraceptive potion.

"Nothing big," said Ruby. "Mr. Crouch is without a secretary again and apparently Bertha Jorkins has recently got forgetful in addition to being a little slow."

"Thank you, Ruby. I'll have a talk with Rufus right after I get into my office, but after that I'll be down in the archives if somebody looks for me and can't wait. Oh, and while I'm there, find Williamson, Tonks and the other Auror trainee. I want to see them all standing in front of my door when I come back."

After she arrived in her office, Amelia quickly switched her boots for a pair of black pumps, took off her warm cloak and mentally went through everything she'd been told. After a while she heard the outer door open and close, followed by a short conversation muffled by the closed inner door. Immediately after that, Rufus Scrimgeour knocked and entered the office. Amelia addressed him:

"Rufus, please sit down and tell me what our Knockturn Alley acquaintances and other such types had been up to. Then I want to hear what you have to say about a certain incident with Dolores Umbridge."

The Head Auror did as he was asked and started talking:

"It's been quite uneventful. Mundungus Fletcher had been beaten and hexed by the owner of the White Wyvern in Knockturn Alley for an unpaid tab, and Weasley had to visit the library of some muggle university to take care of an enchanted textbook. Oh, and Mafalda Hopkirk sent out one warning for underage sorcery, but that's all and it's been taken care of."

"I'm glad to hear that. Now, what about the business with Umbridge?"

"My temper just got the best of me. I suppose the comment about spilling hot drinks on her head _was_ out of line," admitted Scrimgeour with a sigh.

"That's certainly true. You'll have to go up to the first floor and apologize. Not only was that comment out of line, but Umbridge is also vengeful, and if she doesn't see you in her office today, you're in for a lot of unpleasantness."

Scrimgeour didn't dispute Amelia's statement. After asking to be excused he left the office and headed to the first floor.

His boss followed soon, when she set out for the tenth floor. After she arrived, she passed the entrance to the Department of Mysteries, all of the old courtrooms and the holding cells, until she arrived at the entrance to the archives.

Right behind the heavy double door there was the archivist's desk. The wizard seated behind it mumbled a greeting, pushed himself from his chair and performed a few detection spells. Then he handed Amelia a small knife and a piece of parchment. The DMLE director cut her left palm and let three drops of blood fall on the parchment. The wizard then added a drop of dark blue potion to the bloodstain.

When he saw that the disturber of his peace was really Amelia Susan Bones and not some polyjuiced little creep, he moved to toss the slip of parchment to his wastebasket, but Amelia stopped him and disposed of it with a vanishing charm.

The Ministry archive consisted of two rooms filled with dust-covered overflowing shelves. The front room, which was considerably more spacious, held transcripts of regular Wizengamot meetings, while the smaller back room was used to store trial transcripts.

Amelia entered this second room, all the while thinking that a house elf would take much better care of all these records. The trial transcripts were sorted alphabetically, with the A's nearest to the entrance, and the shelves stood quite close to each other. The DMLE director wasn't particularly eager to walk between them. Their height, the narrow space in-between and the dust all over them put in her mind some quite unpleasant images, but whether she wanted it or not, she had to dive into the maze if she wanted to find the file she was looking for.

The B's were found easily and so was Black's file, wedged tightly into a crate so full that it looked as if its corners would soon give way. Amelia pulled the folder out and looked inside. There were statements from the muggle witnesses before they'd been obliviated, and also from all of the wizards who arrived at the scene to either arrest Black or deal with the damage. Aside from the witness statements there were only a few photographs of the gruesome scene taken from several vantage points, and some close-ups of the crater in the middle of the street.

It looked as if Black had told the truth. The file contained no trial transcripts or records about questioning. Of course, there was a possibility that the things just got lost, but Amelia doubted it. Barty Crouch had been and still was a perfectionist who demanded the same from his subordinates and Merlin help the poor sod who had the audacity to make a mistake. This behaviour had even earned him the moniker "Bastard Barty" during his time as a DMLE director, so any Auror who questioned captured criminals and any scribe who was responsible for taking a trial transcript would take extra care that those records were correct and correctly filed.

Amelia quickly made a copy of the file, put everything back to its place and left the archive. The massive double door closed behind her and she didn't see or hear the archivist get up and walk to the back room. The man noticed a wide smudge of dust on the back of the DMLE director's robes and he was now slowly walking past the rows of shelves, looking for a place where the layer of dust had been partially wiped off.

When he found it, he started examining the crates, and sure enough, there was one which had a slightly cleaner upper edge than the others. The archivist pulled it out and stared at the files within. He would think that they hadn't been touched, but for one detail – one file looked cleaner than the others. He put the crate back and marched back to his desk, where he grabbed a sheet of the purple parchment used for interdepartmental memos and wrote:

 _Mr. Crouch,_

 _Bones went through Sirius Black's file and she now has a copy of it in her possession._

 _Greetings, IP._

The memo was on its way to Bartemius Crouch's office some ten minutes after Amelia exited the archive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Poter.**

 **A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited and/or followed this story.**

It was very late evening on the day of Amelia's inspection of Azkaban and the DMLE director couldn't fall asleep no matter how hard she tried. Her thoughts kept returning to Barty Crouch and the transformation he underwent during the Voldemort war.

When she joined the DMLE as an Auror trainee, Crouch had been considered a serious, strict man who didn't tolerate sloppy work and fooling around – it was a description which would also fit other members of the DMLE, such as Alastor Moody or Rufus Scrimgeour, and nobody had a problem with it. In fact, during those times it was reassuring that the DMLE director is a man who takes his duties seriously and demands the same from his subordinates.

But as the war went on and things kept getting worse, Crouch got the idea that nobody did their job properly if their boss wasn't standing behind them and breathing down their neck. Then came the very loud, sometimes quite humiliating, and very public reprimands and with them the first stirrings of displeasure. Amelia got her share of them, too. She clearly remembered that some trainees and even a few Junior Aurors were on the edge of crying when Crouch was finished with them.

This was followed by two decisions, first of which was universally welcomed and earned Bartemius Crouch a lot of praise, while the second caused a lot of controversy. The permission to kill or maim the Death Eaters if necessary was considered a reasonable thing, but the authorization to use the Unforgivables caused a divide in the Auror Office – and not only there.

First warnings had been heard that some Aurors behaved just as cruelly as the Death Eaters and the DMLE director not only let it slide, but supported it. Bartemius Crouch of the late seventies and early eighties was an entirely different man from the one who led the DMLE a decade before. The Crouch of the early seventies would never just toss a man in Azkaban without a trial, but when it came to the Crouch of the early eighties, quite a lot of things were possible.

Amelia's musings were interrupted by the sound of breaking glass, which was followed by a thud and some high-pitched squeals. The DMLE director grabbed her wand from her bedside table and padded out into the hallway. She saw that Susan was out of bed, too. When the girl opened her mouth to speak, Amelia motioned for her to be quiet and then pointed at the door behind the teen in a gesture that clearly said "go back to your room".

Susan did as she was asked and Amelia continued in the direction from which the squealing came. It was soon clear that the noise came from Amelia's study. The DMLE director opened the door a crack and peered inside. Her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw what, or who, had caused all the racket.

Muffy and another house elf were rolling on the floor exchanging punches, scratches and bites. The glass of the bookcase where Amelia kept copies of valid laws and regulations had been smashed to pieces, which were now glittering on the floor, and there were some sheets of parchment and photographs strewn over the carpet near her desk.

Amelia pushed the door open with enough force for it to slam to the wall. The noise distracted the two brawling house elves and for a moment they stopped fighting and shrieking. The strange elf made use of the few seconds and disappeared with a crack. Muffy stood up, started pulling at her ears and apologized:

"Muffy is sorry for making mess and not stopping bad elf from getting to Mistress' things and waking up the Mistress."

"Don't worry, Muffy," said Amelia in what she hoped to be a calming tone of voice. "It actually looks like you _did_ stop the other elf from getting to my things and made the mess while you tried to get rid of our unwelcome visitor – not just for your amusement. As for waking me up – if there is an intruder in the house, I'd wish to be informed immediately, no matter the hour. You did well, Muffy. There is no need to punish yourself."

The house elf nodded and then snapped her fingers. The broken glass front of the bookcase repaired itself. When Muffy lifted her hand to tidy up around her mistress' desk, Amelia stopped her and picked up the parchments and photographs herself.

Sure enough, it was the content of Sirius Black's file. The DMLE director checked if there was anything missing. To her relief, nothing had been taken or damaged. She put the documents back in their folder and locked them all in a desk drawer, which she then locked and warded.

Amelia didn't have to think hard to get an idea where the other elf came from. There were two men who could wish that Black's case was never reopened. First of them was Lucius Malfoy. If Black died in Azkaban, the family fortune and the Wizengamot seat would go to Malfoy's son, but Amelia didn't think that the intruding house elf was his. Malfoy preferred death threats and blackmail – and he also regarded house elves as something with about as much intelligence as a flobberworm, and therefore incapable of helping with his grand plans. Which left Barty Crouch.

 _I'll kill the dust-loving slob of an archivist,_ Amelia thought and exited the study, locking the door. She then stopped by Susan's room and reassured her niece that the intruder had been dealt with.

* * *

As soon as Amelia got to the Ministry the following day, she visited professor Penrose from the Magical Research Committee to ask about their progress with the anti-house elf ward. Penrose started working on it two years ago, when an envious rival sent his house elf to raid the professor's study. Penrose thought he got the ward right and asked Amelia, the daughter of his late friend, to borrow Muffy to test the ward. To the old wizard's chagrin, Muffy got through the ward in ten minutes. Unfortunately, Penrose had put the project on hiatus and devoted his time to his other research.

Amelia's mood improved when she visited Griselda Marchbanks at the Wizarding Examination Authority offices. The ancient witch was just instructing a subordinate about the OWL and NEWT tests for home-schooled witches and wizards which would take place in a few days. The DMLE director waited for Madame Marchbanks to finish giving out instructions before she greeted her.

"Good morning, professor."

The elderly witch looked up with a slightly annoyed expression on her face, but when she saw Amelia, it was replaced by a smile.

"Good morning, Amelia. Are you here to ask about any talented Hogwarts graduates which would fit well in your department?"

"Unfortunately, no. I need to talk to you about an unpleasant business which just came up. Privately," answered the DMLE director.

"Is it going to be a long talk?" asked the older woman.

"Yes, definitely," was the answer.

"In that case it would be best if you came to dinner this evening – that is, if you are free. Bring your niece, too. I have somewhere on my shelves a collection of books which Nobby Leach (1) gave me back in the sixties for my anniversary in function. I think the girl will like them and she's going to be occupied while we talk."

Amelia accepted the invitation, but she wasn't entirely sure about the books. Madame Marchbanks noticed and commented:

"Don't worry. While the books do belong to the romantic genre, there are neither half-naked heroes who are actually idiots, nor villains who are really only down-to-earth men. Nothing to give a teenage girl some silly notions. In fact, I believe that reading those stories can improve a teenager's mind."

"We'll see. I think that you never really know what a teen or pre-teen will like. Just last summer I thought that Susan would probably develop a crush on Amos Diggory's son, but she went crazy over a vapid, overly perfumed and overly dolled up older man."

"Your niece had a crush on Lucius Malfoy?" asked Madame Marchbanks disbelievingly.

"Merlin, no!" said Amelia quickly. "Luckily she still had a bit of common sense despite the teenage craziness. I'll leave you to your preparations, professor."

"Very well. I'll see you in the evening, then. And Amelia?"

"Yes?"

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Griselda?"

* * *

As she was waiting for an elevator to the upper floors, Amelia noticed two witches from her department coming closer. At first she wondered what they were doing on the sixth floor, which housed the Wizarding Examination Authority and the Department for Magical Transportation, but then she saw one of them, a petite brunette, holding two sheets of parchment, first of which was quite short, while the other was rolled up into a scroll. This, coupled with the fact that these two women were hit-witches, made Amelia realize that they were most likely still collecting signatures for the letter to Macnair's boss.

The two women greeted their boss and remained standing nearby in an awkward silence. After a few moments one of them, the brunette, interrupted it:

"Ma'am?"

"Yes, Miss Davies?"

"We wrote out a complaint to the head of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and we wondered if you would add your signature. It is about Walden Macnair and his …"

"Disgusting behaviour, which nonetheless isn't awful enough to justify his arrest?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll sign it. Did you get any other department or office heads to sign?"

"We did. Even Madame Edgecombe from the Floo Office agreed with the complaint," said Davies.

They didn't say anything more, as at that moment the elevator arrived. There was only one person inside, Bertha Jorkins, a frowning plump woman only a few years younger than Amelia. There was a chorus of "good mornings" as the three women got into the cabin.

After another few moments of awkward silence Davies asked:

"What brings you to the upper floors, Miss Jorkins?"

"I work on the fifth floor, of course," said Jorkins in a highly offended tone.

The two hit witches and their boss exchanged looks as Bertha determinedly stared at the wall of the elevator shaft, obviously unwilling to say anything else. It wasn't long before they arrived on the fifth floor and she marched off with her nose high up in the air. The golden safety grille in the fifth floor corridor closed with a rattling sound and the cabin started moving again. This time the silence was interrupted by the other hit witch, a curvy redhead.

"Wasn't Bertha Jorkins recently transferred to Mr. Bagman's department down on the seventh floor?"

"She was. I think the woman really needs to see a healer. She seemed a little too forgetful to my taste," remarked Davies.

Those were the last words anybody in the elevator said. When they arrived on the second floor, they found the closest unoccupied desk in the Auror Office and Amelia read the letter of complaint and signed her name at the bottom of an impressively long column of signatures. After that, the hit witches went to their own desks and their boss headed for her office.

When Amelia got there, her secretary handed her a report from the Law Enforcement Patrol and an interdepartmental memo. Before the DMLE director looked at either document, she asked the younger witch:

"Ruby, do you know exactly how forgetful has Bertha Jorkins lately been?"

"Well, I saw her the other day walking down the atrium without shoes and stockings, and according to the restroom gossip she several times forgot what Mr. Bagman wanted her to do no later than fifteen minutes after he'd spoken with her."

This, together with the behaviour Bertha Jorkins exhibited in the elevator, set off Amelia's inner alarms. Jorkins had never been especially bright, but she hadn't been forgetful, either. In fact, her memory had always been quite good, and when it came to gossip, it could even be called excellent.

One thing that was particularly disquieting was the fact that before her recent transfer to the Department of Magical Games and sports, which seemed to coincide with the beginning of the woman's forgetfulness, Bertha Jorkins used to work in the Department for International Magical Cooperation – as Barty Crouch's secretary.

Amelia wholeheartedly agreed with the redheaded hit witch's words – such forgetfulness wasn't normal. It would require either a look through some books on mind magic or a consultation with a healer to be completely sure, but Jorkins' behaviour was suspiciously similar to that of a person hit with a confundus charm, sloppily done _Imperius_ curse or inexpert memory charm.

The DMLE director wondered what would the healers find, if Bertha Jorkins was dragged to St. Mungo's and thoroughly checked for any tampering with her mind – and also how far was Crouch willing to go, how much he really changed from the stern, no-nonsense man he'd been when Amelia joined the Auror program back in the early seventies.

* * *

When Amelia got home and told Susan about the plans for the evening, her niece didn't look particularly enthusiastic, but it was either a dinner with her aunt and a witch who was in all probability an older and scarier version of professor McGonagall, or no company at all. In the end Susan didn't protest and went to put on some nice robes before leaving for Madame Marchbanks' home.

When they stepped out of the floo in Griselda Marchbanks' sitting room, the old witch welcomed them and offered some tea. The offer was accepted and they sat down to drink the beverage and have some polite conversation before Madame Marchbanks' house elf had dinner ready.

The hostess initiated the conversation with a question for Susan:

"Miss Bones, tell me about Hogwarts. It's a long time since I've been a student there and a short yearly visit to administer the OWLs and NEWTs doesn't really give one a proper picture. How is a student's life there like nowadays?"

Susan didn't answer right away. Amelia suspected that her niece was a bit intimidated by the ancient witch sitting in an armchair across from her, and gave Susan an encouraging smile. It helped and the teen answered:

"It is mostly a routine with some fun moments here and there – apart from the time right before the Slytherin – Gryffindor quidditch match, then it can be dangerous to walk through the corridors."

"Dangerous?" repeated Madame Marchbanks. "There used to be some good natured teasing and colour-changing charms flying through the air, but there wasn't any great danger during my time at Hogwarts. What is your experience, Amelia?" asked the old witch.

"I'm afraid that things got much worse by the time I was a student, prof-, sorry, Griselda. Gryffindors hexed Slytherins and vice versa all the time and the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had often been caught in the crossfire."

Madame Marchbanks frowned as she saw Susan nodding in agreement with Amelia's words, but before she could ask for a more detailed description of the happening at Hogwarts, her house elf appeared in the sitting room and announced that dinner was ready.

The dinner conversation had a lighter tone to it. The two adult witches knew that they would discuss unpleasant things soon enough and didn't want to spoil their, or Susan's appetite with talk about sour-faced former DMLE directors. After they finished their meal, Susan was settled in the sitting room with the books Madame Marchbanks talked about earlier. The girl had a sceptical expression on her face when the old witch claimed she would enjoy them, but she didn't vocalize her doubts and thanked the old professor for lending her the books.

Amelia and Madame Marchbanks retired to the latter's study. The older witch went straight to the business ahead:

"So, Amelia, what did you want to talk about?"

"Barty Crouch, Sirius Black and a possible lack of proper trial," said Amelia without skirting around the subject. She then recounted her conversation with Black to the professor.

"Wait a minute. Are you saying that a man had been just tossed into a high security cell in Azkaban without a trial?" said Madame Marchbanks incredulously after she heard Sirius Black's possible story.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I don't have Black's, or anybody else's memories or veritaserum testimony yet, but I do have a copy of Black's file. There were only some photographs and some witness statements. No reports about an investigation, no trial transcript, nothing. If you add to it last night's incident when a strange house elf broke into my study and rifled through my desk drawers before Muffy appeared and dealt with the intruder…"

"That sounds suspect, to be sure. But how can I help you?"

"If I remember correctly, you have connections to some of the more sensible neutrals. I was hoping that there is somebody among them who could hide Black in a secure place for a while. I want to get as much information as possible from him, but that requires his mind to be in the best possible shape, and you know that Azkaban has the opposite effect."

Madame Marchbanks was quiet for a while and thought about Amelia's words. After a few moments she spoke:

"I see that you expect Black would come to harm if you kept him in the holding cells on the tenth floor…"

"Exactly. Maybe I'm paranoid, but I can clearly see an Auror guard under a strong compulsion, or even the Imperius, giving Black food laced with a poison which would cause a heart failure. Or there could be a _clumsy_ " – here Amelia made air quotes with her fingers – "maintenance worker who _accidentally_ activates some of the last-resort fire supressing wards – such as the air-removing one, commonly known as choking ward."

"I hate to admit it, but you aren't paranoid. I've heard of several suspicious accidents at the Ministry during my time at the Examination Authority. In fact, there was an incident similar to what you've just described in the sixties during Nobby Leach's time. And of course, Nobby's mysterious illness and death, too," mused the elderly professor.

These words were followed by a short silence, during which Madame Marchbanks stood up, walked over to a small table holding a tray with a crystal decanter and a few glasses. She poured herself a glass of sherry, offering her guest some, too, but the offer was politely refused. Then the elderly witch returned to her armchair and continued speaking, taking an occasional sip from her glass:

"Out of my acquaintance, the Ogden's would probably be the most willing to help. I'll contact Tiberius and let you know the result."

"Thank you, Griselda."

"You're welcome, Amelia," said the old witch and continued: "Speaking of the Ogdens, who will step in for the Fudges at the annual summer ball? Dolores and Pius, or you and some strapping young Auror?"

"Probably Dolores and Pius," answered Amelia.

"Oh? I didn't think that Dolores would like to spend an evening in the company of Augusta Longbottom, Muriel Prewett, myself and several other old and not-so-old crones who would rub her face in the fact that she's the half-blood daughter of an averagely talented maintenance man. I thought that when she could wiggle out of the Azkaban inspection by sending you instead, she could wiggle out of a social function also." (2)

"I think it would take a legillimens to find out how her mind works," Amelia sighed. Then she checked the time and turned back to her hostess:

"Susan and I should be heading home."

"Very well," said Madame Marchbanks.

The two witches got up, exited the study and went back to the sitting room, where they found Amelia's niece thoroughly engrossed in one of the books loaned to her by the old professor.

"Susan?"

The girl didn't react when her aunt tried to get her attention. Amelia approached the sofa where her niece sat, completely lost in whatever story she'd been reading, and shook Susan's shoulder. Startled, the girl jumped and squeaked. Madame Marchbanks chuckled when she saw it.

"The exact same thing happened to me when I first read those books, only in my case the person who disturbed me assumed that I was going deaf," said the professor.

Susan blushed, reluctantly closed the book and placed it on a table nearby. The old witch smiled when she saw it and said with a smile:

"If you liked it so much, Miss Bones, you can borrow the book, but I expect you to return it in the exact same condition as it is now."

Turning to Susan's aunt, she said:

"I'll contact you soon about the matter we've discussed. It's a shame you won't be at the Ogdens' ball, I'd much rather see you there instead of Dolores, but one can't have everything, I suppose."

They said their goodbyes and the two Bones women flooed home. Amelia was satisfied with the way the evening had gone. She hoped that Tiberius Ogden would be willing to help. The DMLE director would go through with the questioning even if she did have to put Black into a holding cell and give her Aurors an extra portion of nagging and harping about safety and constant vigilance, but she'd still prefer to have a safer place for the prisoner than the Ministry.

As she was slowly falling asleep that night, Amelia remembered her earlier encounter with Bertha Jorkins – and the fact that she forgot to speak with Ludo Bagman, or at least send him a memo. She made a mental note do so as soon as possible. Jorkins definitely had some problems which should be solved before they led to something truly bad.

 **(1) According to harrypotter . wikia . com, Nobby Leach was the first and only muggleborn British Minister for Magic, who was in function during the sixties.**

 **(2) As the Senior Undersecretary, Umbridge was basically Fudge's second-in-command, who outranked the department heads, and could therefore afford to boss them around (same source as (1)).**


End file.
